


Blair Bear

by neichan



Category: The Sentinel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-02
Updated: 2005-11-02
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neichan/pseuds/neichan
Summary: Jim tries to understand the new change in his life.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Dedication: For v v. For the help brain-storming....

Warnings: Pre-Slash. Snuggles. M/M. Big warning! Very different than my usual fare....

Disclaimer: My idea, but someone else's characters and creation.

 

********************

 

Jim Ellison, Sentinel of the great city, Blessed Protector of Blair Sandburg, Guide extraordinaire...and conundrum, sat staring off into space, his hand cupped around his second cup of coffee. He was thinking. Trying to figure out just what had happened. Was still happening. Sure he was a man of action, always had been. But he wasn't stupid. He was a detective, and he could usually figure things out. Understand them. Just not in this case.

 

He hadn't known Blair all that long, less than a year, but he couldn't deny the young, curly haired man had made a profound difference in his life. In fact Jim admitted privately he had been at the point of hoping that there would be some accident, some way to end it all, just not by his own hand. End it all while doing some good.

 

Then...Blair Sandburg walked into his life. Bounced into it really, all those months ago. And his life changed. His senses were a gift now, not a curse. He was learning to use them for the benefit of those who he served and protected while doing his job. He was an asset, not an unstable bomb ready to explode, or implode.

 

And yet, Blair was part of the reason he was sitting here, wondering what the hell he should do.

 

Last night Blair had come home from a long day at Rainier. After helping at the station all morning to boot. The fatigue washed off him in waves. Even his hair was limp, tired. Jim knew his Guide had forgotten to eat, driving himself mercilessly in an effort to finish his classes.

 

"Go change into some sweats. Then sit down, Sandburg, before you fall down. I'll make some soup." Jim softened his voice in deference to the man who was so tired his defenses weren't up to their usual standards. Blair blinked owlishly at him, not wearing his glasses, his hair down, wild and loose, as Jim put the homemade soup on the range, turning the heat to low. Sandburg's soup was a treat, the kid sure could cook, when he stopped trying to use weird ingredients.

 

Aside from looking over at Jim, backpack dangling forgotten from his lax fist, Blair didn't move. It was as if, now that he was home at the loft, all his energy was gone. He hadn't an ounce left to spare. Now, safe at home, he couldn't move, couldn't think. Jim sighed and went to his partner.

 

He was surprised at how cold Blair's arm was, even through his buttoned up flannel shirt. Blair had forgotten his jacket, again. Jim revised his plan, taking the pack from the smaller man, and setting it outside Blair's room as he took the Guide towards the bathroom.

 

"jim..." Blair began, making an effort to interact, but Jim shushed him.

 

"It's alright Sandburg. You're home, just take it easy. Relax." Jim put his arm around the shorter man.

 

Thankfully there was just enough room in the bathroom that Jim could sit Blair on the toilet while he ran a hot bath for the exhausted young man, and not have to worry about stepping on him. He added a healthy dollop of Blair's favorite herbal soap to the rushing water filling the tub, swishing it around to encourage the sudsing. He could dial down his sense of smell for a little bit if it would help soothe his partner. Blair had done plenty of adapting for him, after all.

 

He undressed Blair, the other man not protesting, not acting as if it were odd at all, quiessent as a child with a caring parent. Jim had done it before. Undressed other men, his fellow soldiers when they had been beyond doing it for themselves. Being in the field, fighting for your life, made a man very practical. Taking care of your team might save your own life. The social and cultural foibles of the civilian life they'd left behind meant less than shit. There wasn't enough free time, enough safe time to worry about who might be gay, and who wasn't. That kind of shit got men killed. In the Special Forces Black Ops there was no time for it. You worried about it, you didn't make it in the Ops. You got killed, or worse yet, you got your team killed.

 

Jim lowered Blair into the tub, turning off the tap. "Just relax, Chief. I'll be right back, gonna check on your soup."

 

Blair just closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. It was weird, not listening to the grad student's energetic chatter. But, Jim reflected as he headed for the kitchen, Blair had been burning the candle at both ends for a while now. It was hardly any great surprise that he had finally gone past his limit. He was dead on his feet. Jim had seen that in the Spec Ops, too. Blair needed food, time to rest and recharge his batteries.

 

The soup was doing fine, and Jim headed back to the bathroom and the drowsy Guide. The Sentinel didn't think twice about it when he saw Blair was too tired to wash himself. Using the soft hand cloth he carefully and thoroughly washed the other man, then his hair, rinsing it with handfuls of water. Then he lifted the spotlessly clean, sleepy man up out of the tub as he opened the drain.

 

Blair was finally warm and relaxed. He leaned against Jim as the larger man dried him, wrapping a towel around the damp curls. The curls were longer than they had been, and Jim found himself oddly pleased Blair was letting them grow. His Guide was different than all the other friends and acquaintences he had. They were primarily cops, with short hair and a conservative bent. Good to have backing you up, the best. But a far cry from his affectionate, hands on Guide.

 

Blair was not at all like the men he'd worked with, either in the military, or on the force. At first the difference had been a source of irritation, the grad student not fitting into the careful boxes that most everyone else he knew did. In fact, Blair had been more like the perps Jim arrested every day. At least superficially, Jim thought, bypassing the table to seat Blair on the couch. He was about to break one of the house rules...no eating on the couch. He hardly gave it a second thought as he gave Blair the tray with the bowl of steaming, thick, vegetable soup.

 

Despite his looks, Blair was not a pot-head, not a criminal. He was one of the most ethical and kind men Jim Ellison had met in his life. Blair had saved his life. Jim admitted it. He owed Blair Sandburg for every day he lived. Blair had made it possible. Taught him he was not going insane, that he could control his wild senses. Blair Sandburg kept a desperate Jim Ellison from eating his own gun.

 

Jim waited patiently as Blair finished the soup. If necessary he would have fed the other man. But, Blair managed. Then Jim washed the bowl and placed it in the drainer. Blair was dozing on the couch, head flung backwards,snoring lightly. Jim allowed himself a smile. Knocked out. He belonged in bed. Jim dried his hands and went back to his Guide.

 

Blair let himself be walked to the downstairs room, yawning, a huge jaw cracking yawn. Jim nudged the door open and stopped in the doorway. The room looked as if it had exploded. Books stacked on every available surface. Papers piled between the books and on the bed. No way was anyone sleeping in there without a major effort at finding and cleaning a soft, flat surface.

 

Jim turned towards the stairs. He didn't think about it, not really. He just took Blair to the bathroom again, got his teeth brushed, and up the stairs into Jim's own bed. It was plenty big enough for two, or even three to sleep without invading each other's space. Almost before he'd tucked Blair in, the younger man was snoring, and asleep again, smelling faintly of toothpaste and herbal soap, and of Blair, underneath it all.

 

The only concession Jim made to the new presence in his bed was to sleep in his boxers in stead of nude. He slept as well as he had for a long, long time. And if the snoring snuffles against his shoulder were any hint, Blair did as well.

 

They hadn't talked about it. A few night's later, Blair had crawled into Jim's bed again. They slept. And the next night. Now, Blair slept with him every night, and Jim found he liked it. A lot. He had always been a light sleeper, and since he'd been found by Blair that hadn't changed. It was not uncommon for him to wake several times during the night, his Sentinel senses reaching out to assure himself of his Guide's safety and well being. It was a mild, continual source of stress that Blair was closer to the door to the loft than he was, He would have preferred to be between the door to the world outside, and his Guide.

 

Now with Blair at his side in the big, upstairs bed, Jim didn't wake those multiple times. He slept the night through, Sandburg tucked up against him, head resting happily on his shoulder, the long, unruly locks of his hair fanned out over Jim's chest, Jim's arm around him, securing them together, monitoring the Guide all night.

 

The other Major Crimes detectives all noticed a difference in the normally growly and easy to aggravate man. Jim was far more relaxed. They teased him, actually teased the feared detective James Ellison, asking who the lucky lady was. He'd growled back good naturedly, there was no *new* lady in his life, just the same brilliant and beautiful Elaine. The other men had laughed, clearly not believing him, but determined to enjoy the benefits anyway.

 

So, that brought Jim to today, his second cup of coffee, and his thoughts. Blair had been sleeping in his bed every night for a month. And Jim was more rested than he'd been since childhood. He knew it was good for him, his Guide was good for him. But...how did he deal with the knowledge of what he and Blair were doing? They weren't having sex. Which might have been easier to deal with.

 

Jim almost laughed out loud while sitting in the break room sipping his coffee. That would indeed draw notice he thought, him sitting at a table in the precinct, alone, laughing. But it was funny, that he'd find understanding what was going on between him and his Guide, if they were having sex, so much easier. Blair was heterosexual, energetically so. Jim was, too, though perhaps as a concession to his greater age, a bit less actively. Still it was the female form, the female scent that got both of them rocking as far as sex went. That was the same, and Jim didn't see much possiblity of it changing.

 

One thing that had changed...Blair never stayed over night any more with one of his girlfriends of the moment. And Jim had stopped staying over at Elaine's the rare times they both had the same hours off. She had been puzzled, but accepted it when Jim paid her more attention, not less. Sending flowers, seeming happier. More affectionate, not less. She tried to talk with him about it, but he had merely said he was having trouble sleeping and didn't want to keep her up nights. For reasons he didn't quite get, but wasn't about to question, she had accepted that with no argument. He certainly had not told her he wanted to sleep in his own bed so he could sleep with his male friend and un-paid partner.

 

And still they hadn't talked about what was changed, he and Blair. While Jim was curious as to the other's thoughts, he didn't want to take any chance that a conversation would cause them to go back to separate beds. He wondered why Blair, who usually wanted to talk about every little thing, had not brought it up at all.

 

Jim looked forward to nights. He felt more relaxed knowing when the day was over, he was going back to the loft, he and Blair would share a meal, talk about their respective days, and when it was time to sleep, a naked Blair was going to be curled up next to him, and later in the night, would find his way into Jim's sheltering, cradling arms. And Jim was alright with it. More than alright. It was the high point of his day and his night. It was...security. Comfort.

 

And he couldn't tell anyone about it. Or let them find out. What would he say to Elaine if she found out? Or to his best friend Simon Banks, also his boss? If Simon found out he slept with Blair every night without fail...what would Jim say to explain it? Could he explain it? Probably not unless he was talking to a psychiatrist. Yeah. Only a psychiatrist would understand this. Maybe *he* could explain it to Jim. Mentally Jim shrugged. A nice thought, but he was not about to go to a department shrink so he could understand this. Confidentiality be damned, it would be all over the precinct like wildfire, that big, bad, scary, Jim Ellison liked to sleep with his hippy partner. And that would be the end of his career.

 

Knowing his Guide, if pushed Blair would say it was a Sentinel thing. Sentinel Jim needing to know his Guide was safe and warm and healthy. But was that enough to explain why Blair climbed into Jim's bed every night? Was Blair doing it just for his Sentinel? Forty some years of life-experienced Jim Ellison didn't think so. Blair was also sleeping better. No more restless tossing and turning. Snuggling into Jim's arms with a satisfied sigh, his furry chest as soothing to Jim as a childhood teddy-bear.

 

Blair-bear. Jim almost blushed even thinking that silently. Grown men did not have needs that revolved around stuffed animals. They did not crave said stuffed animals. Did not think about them sitting in the detective's break room at the police station. They preferred to sleep with women they found attractive, unless they were gay. And Jim knew he wasn't gay. Nor, was Blair. Sandburg was most emphatically not gay.

 

So...why was he the happiest in his life, ever, the most content, since he had started sleeping with Blair?


	2. Part 2

I can't believe I frigging forgot to lock the front door! I mean Jim always does it if he's home. I don't bother, 'cause he'll just go around and check it anyway, even if he sees me turn the lock .... Last night though, was different. Jim has a cold, he was coughing and sneezing bad enough I managed to talk him into some cold medicine before his head exploded. I know, I know. Jim and cold medicine...jeez. But I really was desperate. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't sleep. If he couldn't sleep, I couldn't sleep. Not with him tossing and turning next to me.

 

Jim irritably vetoed a trip to the doctor when I'd offered to drive him in earlier that evening. So, what was I supposed to do? I can't pin him down and get him to swallow any of the natural remedies that work for me, he's way to big and buff for that. I can talk him into almost anything else, but he draws the line at "unsanitary seeds, weeds and bark". Funny, considering he was an Army Ranger in the Special Forces when he did his military service. Those guys will eat anything. Come to think of it, maybe that is why he'll eat at Wonderburger. He's certainly survived worse.

 

So, I gave him a child's dose of the weakest stuff they had in the drug store. It was that or listen to him strangling all night. I for one wanted to be rested enough to enjoy our first day off in two weeks. I told the pharmacist it was for a six year old, figuring that was how old Jim was acting anyway. She told me one teaspoon. I gave Jim half. It worked. Jim fell asleep. At last. I fell asleep, too. That was the problem.

 

Anyway, so he was knocked out first. That meant that it was my job to lock up. And I forgot. Not such a bad thing in of itself, if Simon hadn't come by to see if Jim wanted to go fishing on his two days off. I was snoring happily next to Jim, when Simon let out a scream that could have woken the dead. I thought I had learned to fly, I came up out of the bed so fast. Jim never moved, snoring away.

 

You have to understand that Jim and I were sleeping when Simon got to the loft. Not sex-sleeping, we don't do that. Sleeping-sleeping. Innocent as babes. Upstairs. Together. Both of us. Like we have been doing for almost half a year now. I mean it, no hanky-panky. Not that Jim is unattractive. But, we don't swing that way. Only this time...we got caught. Just sleeping.

 

We've never talked about it. I don't remember how it started, us sleeping together, I do remember waking up in Jim's bed one morning, getting up and going about my day. I'd wondered how it had happened, but we just got up. Jim had his "don't say anything Blair" face on.

 

So...we ignored the pink elephant in the room. Not saying a word, either of us. Then I remember for some reason deciding to crawl in with him the next time I got cold. Jim is a human furnace. I am an ice cube. And from there...well it turned into every night. Jim never complained. And I swear we both slept better than we had apart. In fact I slept so good I actually looked forward to coming home and getting into bed. Usually it took a nubile young woman to get me into bed before two am. Now, Jim and I were hitting the hay pretty regularly by midnight every night.

 

Jim is still asleep, totally knocked on his ass by the pediatric dose of cold medicine, but at least he is still breathing and decongested. It's just Simon and I downstairs, whispering. Actually I am whispering, Simon is grunting. I really, really hope Jim doesn't wake up before I can get Simon out of here. Simon is looking at me like if I get any closer to him he is going to pull his gun. I just want to get close enough not to wake Jim up with our conversation. It is pretty hard to whisper unless you are close to the person you are whispering to.

 

I thought Simon was going to have a heart attack. I swear every drop of blood he had left his face. He was the greyest black man I've ever seen. I had to jump out of bed, which didn't help much since Jim and I sleep naked(did I tell you that it is totally innocent?), and grab him before he fell backwards down the stairs.

 

Simon squeaked when I grabbed him. Six foot five and at least two forty, and he squeaked. Because I was naked. Me, five foot six and maybe one sixty after a good, hearty dinner. Wearing my hiking boots. Carrying my back pack. Holding a six pack of beer....soaking wet.... Well you get it, right? I am a lot smaller than Police Captain Simon Banks. A LOT. Besides, he has a gun.

 

But, he was afraid of me. A naked, probably "gay", man jumping out of his best friend's bed...I can sort of see where he is coming from. His generation of straight men have always been fairly alarmed when confronted with nude, apparently gay men. Societal pressure has seen to that. But he doesn't have to worry. I am not gay. I am not Jim's lover. I certainly do not want to jump Simon's bones. In all honesty, if I did go for men...Jim would be much more to my taste than Simon.

 

Jim has a body that just won't quit. Jim is a Greek God, take my word for it. Simon is a little soft, especially around the middle. I am not saying he isn't a hell of a lot stronger than me, nor am I questioning his manhood...but he is no Jim. Even men look at Jim's body when it isn't covered by his clothes. Like in the gym, or playing basketball. That body deserves to be stared at. But, that is pointless speculation, as I am straight. Completely and absolutely. Hugs are fine. But no bump and grind with other men for Naomi Sandburg's little boy.

 

Which I am trying to convince Simon of.

 

I had set a land speed record for putting on sweats and talked Simon into sitting down. He refused to lie down on the couch, even when it was clear he was dizzy from the shock of finding Jim and me in bed. But now at least we were talking. He was drinking some of Jim's best coffee. I had some tea. The good stuff, rain forest blend. Sticks and twigs, Jim calls it. I was concentrating on making Simon understand, and so I wasn't enjoying the tea as much as I usually did. I wasn't making much headway, with Simon.

 

"Sandburg." Simon said at last, breaking into my explantion of cultural differences and how in some societies it was perfectly fine for grown men to sleep in the same bed. "I've got eyes. You were naked in Jim's bed. And unless I miss my guess, it wasn't the first time. I am a detective, and I can tell when someone is used to something...or just pretending to be." He growled it at me, taking another sip from his mug.

 

"This is good." He admitted, reluctantly, the early morning sun glinting off his steam-fogged glasses.

 

"It should be, a Sentinel picked it out." I grumbled right back at him. "Simon...you have got to believe me..."

 

"Stow it, Sandburg. I am just hurt Jim didn't trust me enough to tell me." Simon made a face like he was sucking lemons. "Or at least warn me. It took ten years off my life finding you two like that!"

 

"Simon...I swear to any god you care to name, Jim and I just sleep together. It...it's a Sentinel thing. No sex, I swear." I held up my hand, palm out, the other hand going over my heart. Simon at last looked hopeful.

 

"A Sentinel thing." He repeated slowly. I kicked myself for not thinking of that excuse earlier. Maybe it was a Sentinel thing. Maybe it wasn't. Simon could believe it was if it got him through the day.

 

"Yes." I told him. "Jim has to have me some where he can be sure I am safe. He was going nuts worrying, getting up checking the doors and windows all night." I plunged on with the fabrication. This was looking good.

 

Simon looked happier. He'd been witness to Jim's prowling when we'd all stayed up at his cabin, fishing. Jim had insisted he be between me and the door. I'd ended up squashed against the wall all night. It hadn't been very comfortable, and we'd been in separate sleeping bags, but Jim had been adamant.

 

Simon had been there, and seen it. He'd also laughed at the Sentinel, rolling his eyes. Now, he nodded. Relaxing. Then, suddenly, he stiffened again. Fixing me with the laser eyes cops around the world have.

 

"You were naked." He accused, frowning. "That Sentinel thing, too?" I thought fast.

 

"No, Simon. It isn't. It's my first day off...it's *laundry* day." Again I'd lucked onto a fib that he could believe. Jim was forever complaining about my housekeeping. Or at least how I kept my room. The rest of the loft was always up to his standards. Simon had heard it all before. He relaxed again.

 

"That I can believe." He huffed into his mug. I leaned forward, putting on my most sincere face. This time Simon didn't lean back away from me. He believed me. I no longer posed a risk to his sexuality. I stifled the urge to pump a fist in the air. There was one more thing.

 

"Simon, you can't let Jim know you found us like that." I said earnestly, voice low. "He'd die of embarrassment, and then he'd kick me back downstairs and start prowling all night again....and that would mean good bye good mood. Welcome back the old Ellison." I looked up at the larger man with the most innocent, big, blue eyes I could manage. He looked back, thoughtfully. Then he nodded sagely. Score on for Sandburg. Maybe I really can convince anyone of anything.

 

"You are right. OK, Sandburg, it is our secret." He finished off his coffee. Set the mug aside. "Jim still sick?" He asked. Finally catching on to the fact Jim hadn't woken up. Slow Simon. But good for me.

 

"Yeah. I had to give him some cold medicine." I admitted. Simon froze, concern washing over his face. I hastened to reassure him. "Don't worry. I gave him the amount to give a toddler according to the pharmacist. He'll wake up soon."

 

That got Simon moving. He so did not want to be here when Jim woke up. He needed time to adjust, act like nothing had changed. Like he didn't know Jim and I slept together every night. He headed for the door.

 

I took our cups to the sink and washed them, leaving them in the drainer. It was healthier to let dishes air dry, bacteria tended to collect on dish towels. I finished and yawning walked back towards the loft room and Jim.

 

Simon had showed up at six am, or there abouts wanting to get an early start fishing. I never got up that early. I was tired, and Jim was all toasty warm just waiting to warm me up. I stripped off the sweats as I climbed. I crawled in next to my sleeping Sentinel, snuggling up to his bare back.

 

I'd been right, he was deliciously warm. Unlike a lot of the women I've been privileged to know, Jim's butt was not cold. I threw an arm around his waist and inched nearer, fitting our pelvises together like spoons in a drawer.

 

Perfect.


	3. Part 3

I can't believe I let Sandburg convince me he and Jim aren't together. Jim just kissed him. I saw it. Not a big, smoochy kiss. I might have given my son a kiss like that when he was younger. But it was a kiss. And Jim wouldn't kiss Sandburg or any man unless he was...involved. I know Jim. Uh. Or at least...I thought I did.

 

I came to pick them up, we are all going to my cabin to fish. Why waste two days of perfect weather staying in Cascade? Daryl was going to go, but, what can I say, he is a teenager and one of his friends called, and there was mention of girls and a pool party. Chaperoned, you can bet I made sure of that. You can guess what he wanted to do, and it wasn't fish with his old man and his old man's friends.

 

Considering what just happened...I am glad Daryl canceled at the last minute. I mean what was Jim thinking? Daryl might have seen it! And it wasn't like he was leaving Blair at the loft. Blair is coming with us. So he didn't need a good-bye kiss or anything like that. Even if they are together. I guess it is good Daryl isn't coming. Who knows what he'd see up at the cabin? I am an adult. Jim's my best friend. I can deal. I don't want my son to have to.

 

They were carrying their bags, poles, and gear. Jim set his things down and locked the door. That man has an obsession with locks. I mean, sure Jim is a police officer, and we do get to see what happens if people fail to be adequately conscious of security, but hey, the little hippy can lock a door as well as a Major Crimes detective. It just isn't that hard to do.

 

But, anyway. Jim locks the door. I am holding the elevator for the two of them, thinking that it is good that the darn thing is actually working today, they are carrying too much stuff to use the stairs. Jim turns around, picks up his bags, Sandburg is waiting a few feet ahead of him, chattering away about god knows what, and Jim walks up to him and past him, bending down and dropping a kiss on Hairboy's curly, little head.

 

I don't care if it didn't hit skin. It was a kiss. And Jim acted like it wasn't anything unusual. And Blair didn't even notice, just kept walking and talking, flapping his gums, bringing up the rear behind Jim who is carrying about 150 pounds of gear like it isn't anything at all.

 

Jim doesn't look like a fag. That didn't sound right. Jim doesn't look gay. Homosexual. Sandburg does. Or he might if I didn't know for sure he was dating just about every woman who he ran across. Well, he isn't that bad, but he's getting quite a rep with the ladies. Still if I had to say, Blair looks more gay than Jim. Without a doubt. And I know for a fact Jim wouldn't be doing it if Sandburg hadn't talked him into it.

 

I mean Jim was married for Pete's sake. To Caroline. And whatever other complaints she had about him, his ability to make love wasn't one of them. We had a heart to heart more than once, Caroline Plummer-Ellison and I. She left me with the impression Ellison was quite the stud. So. It doesn't make sense what Jim is doing now. With Blair. Who is male. Despite the long hair and flowery speeches, and his tendency to pat everything in sight. Including me. Blair is still a man. No mistaking him for anything else with that five o'clock shadow of his. Whatever else he is, he is a furry little pain in the ass.

 

OK, damn, Banks, not a good visual on that one. Think of something else. Get that picture out of your mind. Jim would never let....Gah! Don't, just don't...think....

 

Sandburg touches everything. Me. Megan. Rafe. H. Joel. Jim. Especially Jim. He leans against Jim. Puts his hand on Jim's back. Looks at him with those puppy eyes of his...so big and blue, long, dark lashes like rows of lace....and.... (Joan used to look at me like that. Except her eyes are a beautiful brown.) How are you supposed to turn the kid down when he looks at you like that?

 

Blair touches him, all the time. Fixes his food. Sometimes he feeds him. Not putting food on a plate and sitting it in front of Jim. He does that, too. But he also goes further, breaking off a piece of donut and putting it into Jim's mouth, that kind of feeding. And Jim doesn't say anything. If I tried that with Jim, I wouldn't have any fingers left. Hell, if I tried it with my wife, ex-wife, Joan, I would pull back stubs. I might be able to get away with it with Daryl, if we were alone. The kid will eat anything, and he really likes chocolate. OK. That isn't the point. Jim let Blair feed him. By hand. That is just weird. It isn't natural. Jim and I are very close. We've been through a lot. I wouldn't dare.

 

A while back I went to Jim's loft. I wanted to find out if he wanted to fish on his weekend off. Daryl had been busy that weekend, too. (I wonder if there is some kind of curse with me and Jim and fishing?) I found the door to the loft unlocked. Not something Jim would do. You'd have to know him to know how not Jim it is. He never forgets to lock up. Not to be blasphemous, but it is like his religion. So I went in, holster unsnapped, hand on my gun. I knew it probably wasn't anything but...well I am a cop. I've seen things.

 

Well. I hadn't seen what I saw that morning. Christ on a crutch. Jim was in bed. With Sandburg. I almost had a heart attack. I swear. I was dizzy, couldn't feel my feet. And Sandburg jumped at me. Naked. He was naked in bed with Jim Ellison. And he jumped at me. I mean, intellectually I know he saw I was about to fall, but Christ, you just don't do that to another man, you know. Come to think of it, you don't sleep naked with your "friends" either. Not even Sandburg.

 

I let him convince me it was a Sentinel thing. Because, man, did I ever want to believe! I let him lead me right down the garden path by the hand. Another bad visual. The point being, I let him convince me, though. Just what I know I shouldn't do as a detective. Just the facts, ma'am. I should have put the facts together, and not listened to Sandburg's lies. Obfuscations he calls them. They are lies. He lied to me about him and Jim. He might have been trying to protect Jim, the little punk will do anything for Jim, but it is still not the truth.

 

The kid can talk, I'll give him that. He can talk a bird out of a tree, if he sets his mind to it. And I was ripe for the picking. I mean I've showered next to Ellison. He's never looked at me. Or anybody else in the locker room. Never checked anyone out. I would have noticed things like that. Fairies are always into big men. And I am a big man. In every way. But Jim never looked at me.

 

It has to be Sandburg. If anyone is a fairy it is the kid. He is nice enough. And I can't argue that he hasn't been good for Jim. I mean, you should have seen the guy Ellison was before Sandburg. He didn't have a partner, despite being the best cop in Cascade. Because no one could work with him without wanting to kill him the first day. Even H, who is about as happy go lucky as a man can be and still be a good cop. Even H was on the verge of strangling Ellison after half a shift as his partner.

 

Then one day out of the blue, Ellison comes in with this hippy punk, introduces him as his cousin...and we all knew that was a crock of shit, but the kid made a difference. Ellison, who already had the highest clearance rate in the city, got even better. 95% of his cases are closed now. Ellison has been Cop of the Year twice. And that has been since Blair showed up. They are the best team in the state. I would put them up against any detective team in the US. Even with Blair not being a cop at all. And I'd bet my house on them winning.

 

I don't mean to give the impression I don't like Sandburg. I do. He is impossible not to like. And he is just...so damn cute. Even I can see that. It is *not* a sex thing, admitting he is good-looking. It really is his smile, when it comes down to it. He glows when he smiles. All that good will and positive thinking. That caring. He does care. He helps people. It is what he does. He certainly helps Jim. But, it is hard to think of him helping Jim out *that* way. You know? sure Jim doesn't date much, just Elaine now and then, though the two of them are cooling off some. But he can't be that...uh, you know...desperate. Can he? As I was saying, Blair is a good guy. And he has made Jim's life a lot better. I admit it.

 

Stranger, Ellison has mellowed out. He became almost human, aside from the Sentinel secret. He has always been my best friend, since the week we met when he was a patrol cop. He was too good to stay on patrol for long, but that was what he was doing when we met. I admit he's never been easy to live with, work with, or deal with. You never knew what would set off the famous Ellison temper. Straight out of the blue.

 

Friendship aside, from the stand point of being his boss, apart from his solve rate, he was a nightmare. Civilian and departmental complaints about his attitude came in every month without fail. If he hadn't solved the murder of the Mayor's son he'd have been fired back then. He was never, not once, accused of brutality. He keeps that part of himself under tight control. In the military he killed people for a living, in more ways than someone who hasn't been Spec Ops can imagine. Out here...he is more careful than any other cop I have seen. But, people who met him didn't like him at all.

 

Until Sandburg. Now people call up and lavish praise on him and his "partner". I have to admit Blair has made Ellison into a better man. No contest. But that doesn't mean Jim has to kiss him, does it? Especially in front of me.


	4. Part 4

********************

For some reason, Simon is trying to pretend he isn't watching Jim. I can't figure out why. Jim is only taping the air mattresses he brought with us together to make one big one. It is so cool he brought them, they are almost as wide as his bed up in the loft! Better than the floor, too.

 

Last time it was really uncomfortable, laying on the floor in just a sleeping bag. I woke up stiff as a board. I know, I know, it should be fine for a guy who has gone to East Timor and slept in the dirt between piles of elephant dung for a week. Or who climbed a few thousand feet up a mountain range in Peru, and slept on a rock outcropping and in a few caves. Or...well. You get the idea. It really touched me that Jim had thought about my comfort.

 

Simon didn't look as happy as I felt. What is with that guy? We are up here in the midst of glorious nature, fishing, and this time he actually caught some fish! That almost never happens. He seems sort of grumpy, all tense. He really needs to get away from work I guess. All that stress isn't good for a guy. A few months back, I tried to help him learn to meditate, learn to do cleansing breaths and relax, but he didn't do so well. In fact he threw me out of his office!

 

He seems to be watching Jim zipping our bags together. He looks a lot like someone hit him between the eyes. Huh. I don't understand why it should bug him, Jim bringing the mattresses, though. Jim just wants to be comfortable. Simon gets the bed after all. A bed with a real mattress. Maaan! Jim and I would trade him in a flash! You'd think with all the times he invites people up here there would be more than one bed by now. And Jim can't be the first to bring more than a sleeping bag. Oh, so cool! Jim brought pillows, too. Man! I totally forgot!

 

Yikes! That knife is really sharp. Simon better pay attention to what he is doing. He's cleaning the fish and I am cooking tonight. He loves how I do fresh fish. But if he cuts himself and gets blood on the fish....at least we brought a lot of vegetables, some rice, I can just have those. Jeez, what is it with Simon? He is not watching what he is doing. He is *still* watching Jim lay out our bags. Well that fish is toast. Simon just squished it. I'm not into fish puree. Don't have any recipes for that.

 

Damn. Simon sure has big hands.....

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

Oh, man! Dinner was great! Thank goodness Simon didn't cut himself, and I got to eat some of everything! Nothing like fresh fish, a little butter, some herbs, a quick sizzle, dash of lemon, boy! I am stuffed. My stomach is as round as if I were a couple months pregnant! Hee hee, that would be a riot wouldn't it? Watch out! Pregnant very male Guide, here! It would sure take the pressure off of Jim, with all the Sentinel rumors and stuff. That CIA guy poking around last month.... Yeah...maybe we could start a rumor...

 

Oh, Ghod! Jim. That is just sooooo.....I can't move.

 

Jim is rubbing my belly, he can probably hear the little gurgles and squirts going on in there! Nice, slow circles with the palm. His hands aren't soft, he's got lots of callouses, how could he not? What with he does for a living, and all that working out....but they feel right. It almost feels like he is helping me digest our feast! My mom used to rub my tummy when I was a kid. It was great. Still remember it. Hold on, Jim, let me... There, better position. Oh man is that perfect or what?!

 

I feel like a cat! Getting stroked. Jim's cat would be one lucky animal. I don't see how Elaine *ever* lets him out of bed! He is soooo good at this. His fingers are swirling in my tummy furr. Up and down, but in lazy arcs. He could make a fortune doing this for a living. Finger tips one way, then knuckles the other direction. Wow, he really could make a killing like this! Massage, I mean. His sense of touch is so...sensitive. He finds all the tender spots, and just makes them melt away!

 

I guess Simon is having trouble sleeping, I can hear him...growling? Maybe he ate too much, too? Maybe he is cold? Jim and I are a lot closer to the fire than he is. One of the benefits of *not* getting the bed. Aside from the fact he is snarling like some wild animal, I can see the firelight glinting off his glasses, so I know he is awake. Can't see what he is doing, don't want to put on my glasses. I am getting real relaxed now.

 

Jim is petting me, along my side and over my back. It is fantastic. I can't even move. Limp as a noodle. That's me! Don't ever want to move. Ghod, Elaine, I just don't understand why you don't have this man chained to your bed! You seriously need to readjust your priorities, woman!

 

Jim! He's licking me! I mean, not that I mind. It is just...I...he caught me by surprise! Must be a Sentinel thing, him wanting to taste me, mapping me with all his senses. Oh! The ears! Damn that is...wow. Oh, wow. My toes are curling. I don't think they'll ever uncurl again.

 

Not moving. That is really something! I'm shivering, shuddering, and it isn't because I'm cold. Nope! Toasty as heck in here! Hot. If you catch my drift. I could lay here all night and let him.... Hey watch it! Oh. Ghod. That is....Incredible. He is petting me, uh, down there. Petting me. Not, er, masturbating me or anything, he would never do that. You know...THAT. But, uh, I think I might let him. If he tried, you know.

 

He is sooo good at this!

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

I can't believe how good I slept! I feel great! Ooops. Ran into Simon. Uh, he doesn't look so good. Must really have been sick last night. Doesn't look like he got any sleep. I'll make him some of the tea I brought.

 

Why is Simon staring at me like that?! No. Not at me.... At my neck. This is getting a little creepy. Growling last night, and now this morning, staring at my neck. He hasn't looked at my face, even once, not even to say good morning. It is like he is talking to my Adam's apple. Or my jugular. He couldn't have been changed into a vampire last night without Jim noticing, could he? Hee hee. But seriously...I think I better go check it out. Something is definitely up.

 

"JIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

 

Oh man! Jim! I can't believe it! He gave me a hickey! Not just one! A bunch of them. All around my neck. I remember him licking me, sucking. But I never would'a guessed he was leaving marks! Damn it Jim! I have to get up in front of 200 horny, sex-obsessed freshmen anthro students first thing Monday morning! It is too hot to wear a turtle neck. And even I don't have enough native necklaces to cover these up! No way any of the frosh are going to miss this! Can't remember a paragraph of the textbook, but if it has to do with making out.... Can't sneak it past them. What a way to start the summer semester! It is going to be all around Rainier!

 

I'll never get a date again!


End file.
